


Stranger Things

by Sarea Okelani (sarea)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-05
Updated: 2011-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-21 01:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarea/pseuds/Sarea%20Okelani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman's secrets are not always her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger Things

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this story before 3.05 "The Crystal Cave" aired, so I feel a bit "Jossed," at least in one respect. If you're unclear but curious about which element or what Jossed means, let me know and I'll enlighten you. :-) The events of this story take place between 2.10 "Sweet Dreams" and 2.11 "The Fires of Idirsholas," and Morgana is still suffering from bad dreams.
> 
> Thank you very much to ropo, who brought the Big Red Pen out of retirement to beta this story, akscully, who kept me happy and motivated with GIFts, and adelagia, who won't be reading this story because she's a staunch Merlin/Arthur shipper (you still love me though, right?), but who is the reason I started to watch this show at all. Thanks, all you lovely ladies!

Stranger Things  
by Sarea Okelani

~*~

"If you're interested, I have something else today ... something very special."

Hedda Croft eyed the oily man before her with distaste. They were nearly done with the transaction; she'd picked through his supplies and selected the items she wanted at the prices she wanted them for, and now she was ready for him to leave. Of the various traveling merchantmen Hedda dealt with, Trove was her least favorite. Unfortunately, he frequently had the best wares.

"What is it?" Hedda asked, deliberately sounding uninterested.

Trove reached into the small sack slung around his chest. It was where he kept his more valuable offerings, Hedda knew from experience. "It comes from a faraway land."

Hedda snorted and rolled her eyes. Doubtless, he sold Camelot wares to shopkeepers in Mercia and said the same thing.

Trove drew out a small object. It glinted green in the sunlight. He held it out to her and she took it from him, hoping her reaction wouldn't show on her face. For the object she held, a thing small enough to fit into the palm of her hand, was something extraordinary indeed.

"It's a ribbon charm," Trove put in.

"I know what it is," Hedda snapped. Who did he think she was? As though she wouldn't know a ribbon charm when she saw one. This was no ordinary ribbon charm, however. It was in the shape of a tortoise, inlaid with gold. The tortoise's shell was a pearly green, so light it was nearly iridescent. It was a lovely piece of work -- so lovely, in fact, that it made Hedda suspicious. An object such as this couldn't possibly have been made by common methods.

"I want nothing to do with sorcery," she said firmly, handing the charm back -- or at least, attempting to do so.

Trove chuckled. "Is that what you think? I assure you, missus, this charm was made by ordinary human hands. Particularly gifted ones, to be sure, but nothing unnatural about it."

Hedda studied his face, filled with crooked teeth and almost certainly hiding crooked intentions, but decided he was probably telling the truth. A trinket, even one as lovely as this, wouldn't be worth his life if he were caught with it in Camelot, and she sensed that Trove was a man who valued his own skin above all else.

"How much do you want for it?" Hedda asked gruffly.

The price Trove named made her shout with laughter. Again, she thrust the charm back at him, but as before, he did not take it.

"I'm a businesswoman, you know," she said, exasperated. "I'd have to make a profit on top of paying you, and what sort of customers do you think I have that can part with that much gold for a mere trinket?"

Trove looked wounded. "I thought you were a woman of discerning taste, missus."

"A woman of taste, not stupidity," Hedda retorted. "Why don't you try Ivergen over there, you might have better luck convincing him to go along with such foolishness."

"Why not reconsider? That was only my opening offer. I am sure we can come to a price agreeable to us both. An item as fine as this will not last long in any shop."

Hedda hesitated, then suggested a deliberately low amount, nearly an insult. She half hoped Trove would get annoyed and leave, neatly solving her dilemma. Instead of becoming angry, however, he merely countered her offer. The bartering went back and forth, until, against her better judgment, Hedda named a price that was more than what she could really afford, and to which Trove agreed. It was much lower than his initial offer, but Hedda still doubted whether she could sell it. And she would need to sell it, or it would mean losing a week's profit. She closed her hand over the charm, half expecting it to disintegrate into dust. But when she opened her hand again, it was still there, delicate and shining like polished silver.

~*~

It didn't take long for Arletta to notice.

"Oh Mother!" she breathed, taking the charm out of the protective glass case where Hedda had stored it. "It's utterly beautiful. I want it."

"Well you can't have it," Hedda reproved. "Put it back."

"Oh, _why_ can't I?" Arletta pouted in a way that normally caused the recipient -- usually a man -- to do whatever she wanted. It did not, however, work on her mother.

"You know perfectly well why. Do you know how much that cost? More than you're worth." Hedda didn't mean the harsh words. Arletta was her youngest, the only one still living at home, and while she was a bit spoiled, she was still Hedda's daughter and Hedda loved all of her children.

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Arletta put the charm back in its case. "I envy the woman who will get to wear this in her hair."

"You have quite enough finery of your own."

"This puts all of it to shame," Arletta said wistfully. Then she noticed what Hedda was ladling into bowls. "Oh, not rabbit stew _again_?"

~*~

The next morning, Arletta stocked the new purchases Hedda had made the day before while Hedda brought out the ledger she used to keep track of transactions. She kept a rudimentary system, as she never truly learned her letters, and certainly not arithmetic, but it worked just fine for her purposes.

They did a fairly brisk business that morning, and Hedda was pleased. They'd be able to have venison from the butcher's for supper tonight. That should make Arletta happy.

"I hope Will comes in today," Arletta said. She'd taken a shine to the butcher's boy, who was handsome but not very bright. She seemed to prefer those sorts.

"And what would a butcher need from our shop?" Hedda asked, looking to the heavens for patience. Nearly every woman in Camelot had come into the shop at one point or another, even Lady Morgana, the King's ward, but men found less reason to visit as the shop primarily specialized in women's goods.

"Well obviously he'd come to see me."

"He'd have to be able to find it first," Hedda muttered under her breath.

"What was that, Mother?"

But Hedda was spared from answering, for at that moment the shop door opened, admitting two knights, followed by Lady Morgana herself, and right behind her was Prince Arthur, looking irked.

Hedda and Arletta both bowed their heads respectfully, murmuring, "My lady. My lord."

Hedda's gaze followed the beautiful Lady Morgana as the latter perused various silks and satins, running her fingers over the fabrics. Her expression was distant, however, and Hedda noticed the dark circles under the Lady's eyes. They said the King's ward suffered from night terrors and rarely found restful sleep. It seemed the rumors were true.

While Hedda had been studying Lady Morgana, she saw now that her daughter had eyes only for the Prince. Arletta was looking at him with a glazed expression, Will the butcher's son clearly no longer topmost in her mind. Hedda couldn't blame her. Prince Arthur was uncommonly handsome, a fierce warrior, and had proved more than once to be a friend to the common folk. He was championed by all the people, and very few did not look forward to the day he would rule the kingdom. If Hedda were twenty years younger...

"Morgana. If you're quite through, I'd like to get back to the castle. I have new knights to train." The Prince crossed his arms over his chest, fingers drumming an impatient beat.

Lady Morgana made a noncommittal sound. "No one asked you to come along."

"Someone did, actually," Prince Arthur replied caustically. "My father. He's anxious that you haven't been sleeping well."

"Such concern. I suppose I'm touched." Her voice was hard, brittle.

The Prince sighed, clearly exasperated. Hedda did feel sorry for him. Following around after a woman while she did her shopping was not high on the list of any man's interest. Particularly as the woman did not seem all that interested in the shopping expedition herself. Lady Morgana seemed lost in her own mind as she stared at a glass figurine.

"What's this?" Prince Arthur asked suddenly. His attention had been caught by the tortoise charm.

Hedda opened her mouth to respond, but Arletta was quicker. "A ribbon charm, my lord," she said, sounding a bit breathless. Hedda tried to hide her smile. "Would you like to see it?" Prince Arthur held out a gloved hand and Arletta placed the charm into it. "Do you like it?" she asked, eager to please.

"It's extraordinary," the Prince responded, turning his hand this way and that, to catch the charm in the light. "What craftsmanship. Morgana, look at this."

Lady Morgana barely gave it a glance as she walked by. "It's nice. I'm done here."

Prince Arthur seemed torn between wanting to study the charm a bit more and his desire to leave as quickly as possible. The latter won out. He handed the charm back to Arletta, who looked disappointed, and nodded his thanks.

The royal party left, but their presence had attracted the attention of several prospective customers, who came into the shop to peruse the wares. Hedda was pleased, as was Arletta, who told anyone who would listen about her personal encounter with the Prince of Camelot.

~*~

"Hello!"

Hedda looked up from her sweeping at the cheerful greeting, suspicious. Was there ever cause for that much cheer? It was abnormal. She peered at the speaker more closely. He looked vaguely familiar, as if she'd seen him before, yet she was sure he didn't live in town...

He raised one hand in a wave. "I'm Merlin," he said with a bright smile. "I serve Prince Arthur."

Ah, so _that_ was how he seemed familiar. This boy was rarely far from the Prince's side. This Merlin must be a very useful servant. Hedda couldn't tell if it bode well or ill that the Prince's manservant was in her shop. She put the broom away and went to stand next to her daughter.

"I'm Arletta Croft, and this is my mother, Hedda. How can we help you?" Arletta, who had previously been looking at the newcomer as if he were dung stuck to her shoe, was all smiles now that she knew of his association with the Prince.

"I'm, er, I'm looking for something."

Hedda and Arletta waited for him to continue. He didn't. They all looked at one another expectantly.

"We sell many things," Arletta said, her smile becoming a bit fixed. "Are you referring to anything in particular?"

"Yes!" he seemed happy to have an answer. "It's pretty. And green." Merlin looked at them apologetically. "I don't know that much more about it, really. Oh! I think it might be a jewel of some kind? He wasn't very clear." This last bit was muttered under his breath.

A jewel? Hedda did not sell jewels. She couldn't afford the trouble of having to keep them safe. Why would Prince Arthur's servant look for jewelry in her shop? Surely the royal jewelers would be able to meet the needs of -- but then it dawned on her what he had to be speaking of. She went to retrieve it. "You must mean this ribbon charm. Prince Arthur was here the other day with Lady Morgana and I noticed it caught his eye." Hedda opened the case and took out the charm, offering it to Merlin.

"Ohhh, it's a _ribbon charm_ for _hair_ ," Merlin said, nodding sagely.

"You have no idea what you do with it, do you," Hedda guessed.

He continued to nod. "None whatsoever."

Hedda chuckled. "Not to fret. The lady will know."

"Lady? What lady? How do you know it's for a lady?" Merlin asked, looking alarmed.

"It's a ribbon charm," Hedda said slowly. "I assumed Prince Arthur was not planning to wear it himself."

Merlin cleared his throat, then smiled sheepishly and pulled out a pouch of coins to pay.

Arletta sighed longingly. "How lucky the Lady Morgana is," she said, her voice low so only her mother would hear, but Hedda shushed her anyway.

Privately, however, Hedda agreed. If the Lady Morgana had indeed captured the attentions of Prince Arthur, who, according to her youngest daughter, was the most desirable man in the five kingdoms, there were very few who would not want to be in her shoes.

Hedda was also thrilled to have sold the charm, and for a tidy profit. Lovely though it was to look at, she'd taken a risk in buying it from Trove. It was truly a blessing that Prince Arthur and Lady Morgana had happened to visit the shop yesterday. Very few others could afford to spend that much gold on an item that could hardly be considered a necessity. She wrapped the charm carefully to protect it from damage and handed it to the servant boy.

As Merlin got to the door, he nearly collided with someone just coming in. He swiftly hid the package behind his back. "Gwen!" Was it Hedda's imagination, or did his voice seem unnaturally high?

Thomas's daughter Gwen stepped into the shop, causing to Arletta scowl. Hedda remembered the two of them had been friends once, and was never sure what had happened to change that.

"Merlin," Gwen said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Umm ... socks," he replied. He whipped the package around for her to see, waving it carelessly.

"Really?"

"Oh yes, they make them really comfortable here," Merlin said. "Arthur's favorite."

"What is he on about?" Arletta whispered to her mother, who shrugged, though she was mystified herself.

"Socks. You're buying Arthur's socks." Gwen looked amused.

"Uh... yes, you know... they wear out quickly. From all the jous-- fighting, I mean fighting. Going into battle and protecting children... and puppies... and... and all the land, really, from the terrible evils besieging us on... on all sides. You know. Very heroic deeds." Merlin looked as if he wanted to go on, but thought the better of it and pressed his lips together.

"Indeed?" Gwen looked skeptical. "You can't have more than one pair there," she noted, looking at the small package. "He's going to do all that on one pair of socks?"

"He's quite talented."

"Mmm. And does he make you warm them up for him, as well?" Gwen teased.

Merlin's eyebrows drew together. "No! Of course not!" He seized the door handle and opened it. "I must get back to the castle!"

Gwen looked taken aback. "Yes. I'm sure Arthur is waiting for his socks. Farewell, Merlin!" This last she said to his back as he fled out the door -- or at least, that how it looked to Hedda.

"Hello, Missus Croft," Gwen greeted with a warm smile. "Hello, Arletta."

"Hello, Gwen dear," Hedda replied. Arletta studiously ignored the other girl, causing Gwen's smile to falter a bit, but she simply turned her attention to Hedda.

"I'm looking for more of that yellow fabric you were carrying last week; do you have it in?"

Arletta let out a little snort and muttered under her breath, "That cheap fabric..."

Gwen pretended not to have heard, though Hedda could see the hurt in her eyes. "That was very good fabric indeed, and at a reasonable cost," Hedda said kindly. "Unfortunately, I sold the last bolt two days ago. I'm expecting more in a fortnight if you want to return then."

Gwen nodded. "Thank you."

"Did you _hear_ the way she referred to Prince Arthur?" Arletta fumed once Gwen had left. "So _familiar._ She's been putting on airs ever since she started working at court."

"Oh, I don't think that's true," Hedda said. She agreed that Gwen -- and the servant, Merlin -- did seem overly familiar when referring to the Prince, but perhaps it was easier to forget herself when she was around the royal family more often than was typical for a girl of her station. "She's a nice girl. You shouldn't be so rude. You were friends once, and she recently lost her father."

"We were never really friends," Arletta contradicted. "She went her way and I went mine."

Hedda wondered sadly how much her daughter's bitterness stemmed from the fact that one way had led to running a small shop with an aging mother and frequent meals of rabbit stew, and the other had led to a life in King Uther's court, where they likely had nightly feasts of beef and cake, and drank wine from goblets made of gold.

~*~

Hedda was outside hanging her wash when she heard a slight commotion. Curious, she hurried around the house -- she and Arletta lived in the back while the shop was at the front -- to see a small procession of armed men on horseback making its way through town. The royal banner with the Pendragon crest fluttered in the wind. Several men cheered as the knights rode by. At the head, as usual, was Prince Arthur, wearing full battle regalia and a serious expression.

She noticed Gwen, who didn't live too far down the road from the Crofts, outside her own home, a broom in hand. She was sweeping, but her gaze did not leave the Prince's party as they rode past.

"What's happening?" Hedda asked Old Richard, who came to stand beside her. "Where are they off to then?"

"They say there's a beast terrorizing Galean. Twenty feet high and with claws like a dragon's... They say its breath freezes a man to stone where he stands..."

Hedda shook her head. The King always seemed to send his son on dangerous undertakings from which few could reasonably return alive. The Prince was brave and fierce and seemed to have the devil's own luck, but that luck could not be expected to last forever. When it ran out, Camelot would lose their beloved Prince before he even had the chance to become their King.

Did Prince Arthur ever feel fear? Hedda wondered, looking at his stoic mien. He was so young, a boy really, though his accomplishments had made grown men look up to him. Did he face death with the equanimity of a boy who didn't fully realize what it meant, or did he face it as a man did, knowing exactly what he would lose?

The procession was now passing Gwen's house. The girl had stopped her sweeping. Her face was turned the other direction so Hedda couldn't make out her expression, but she undoubtedly wished for the Prince's safe return, as they all did.

Further down the road, to Hedda's surprise, the Prince turned to look back. The movement seemed involuntary, almost as if he couldn't help himself. The direction of his gaze seemed drawn toward Gwen's house, but she was already disappearing behind the door.

~*~

"I'd like to see your selection of thread, please," Gwen said, lowering the hood of her cloak. It had protected her dark curls from the brisk autumn wind that howled outside.

As usual, Arletta pretended not to notice Gwen's presence.

It was Hedda who responded. "We have these lovely..." Her voice trailed off as she noticed the gleam of green in Gwen's hair. The girl was looking at her expectantly, but Hedda had lost her train of thought. She could only stare. That shade of green...

"Missus Croft?" Gwen's voice was soft and concerned when Hedda still did not speak after some time.

Hedda recovered herself enough to finish her sentence, recommending a few threads, but her mind was working quickly. Gwen was wearing the tortoise charm, she was almost sure of it. Where could Gwen have gotten it? Was it possible Lady Morgana had lent it to her? Yet if it had been a gift from the Prince, why would she lend something with such personal value to a servant? The only other possible explanation was disquieting. Was it possible that this lovely girl was a thief? Had Hedda so mistaken her character? No. She could not believe it of Thomas's daughter. Yet she above anyone would have the opportunity to take it, as Lady Morgana's maid. Doubtless the lady had so many beautiful things that it would be easy to say that she had misplaced it, and if Gwen only wore it out of her presence, she might never know...

"I'll take... this one. They're all so beautiful. I only wish I could buy them all." Hedda pretended not to notice Gwen fingering the lavender silk thread, knowing the girl could not afford to buy such an impractical item. Gwen had selected a large spool of plain brown thread. She touched the other ones wistfully, then gave the older woman a quick, embarrassed smile, handing Hedda a coin. Like most villagers, Gwen did not have a lot of money to spare to buy nice, frilly things. Was that why she had stolen the charm?

"Doing some mending?" Hedda asked.

"Some, yes," Gwen responded a bit hesitantly.

Hedda did not ask any more. The girl could be sewing a dress for all she knew.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask about the ribbon charm, but the moment passed and Gwen was opening the door, bracing herself against the merciless wind.

~*~

Prince Arthur returned in a sennight, victorious once again. Stories of how he slew the beast abounded, each more exaggerated than the last. The most improbable one was that it had been slain with the help of magic. Hedda snorted at that one. "The King would rather see his son dead than win a victory by magic."

Hedda could have asked for the tale from the Prince himself, for the day after his return, he was back in her shop. When Hedda saw Prince Arthur and his manservant Merlin come through the door, she hoped they weren't there to return the charm. She couldn't afford to take it back. Besides, something could have happened to it during its delivery. That Merlin looked a clumsy sort.

She needn't have feared, however. The Prince didn't want to return the charm. In fact, he explained, he was looking for something else like it.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, sire, but I've never seen its like before or since," Hedda said. She thought of the gleam of green in Gwen's hair. Was the Prince trying to replace the item that had been lost? "I could show you some lovely silk scarves, if my lord would be interested?"

Prince Arthur nodded his assent, though it was clear he wasn't really interested in scarves. She thought of Lady Morgana's beauty, her blue-black hair, those intense eyes, and resolved to find something suitable -- no, something special, that Prince Arthur would be happy to give to his lady.

As she went through her merchandise, Hedda debated with herself about whether or not to say anything about what she suspected. Did she owe it to her liege to expose a possible thief in the royal family's midst, or did she stay quiet for the sake of a young girl who had already lost both of her parents? Didn't Gwen deserve a little happiness? After all, who did it really hurt if a small charm was in one woman's possession or another's?

Hedda began to lay out scarves. Some were so intricate they could be considered works of art. She could tell, however, that Prince Arthur had a man's appreciation for such things, in that he had none at all.

Apparently even his manservant could tell that they had strayed afar from the Prince's strengths.

"... my lord?" Merlin began. "I could do this for you. You didn't need to—"

"Of course I did," Prince Arthur snapped. "I want to pick it out myself. I like knowing—" He stopped. Hedda hid her smile and it looked as though Merlin were doing the same thing.

"Really?" Merlin asked innocently. "You had me pick out flowers for Lady Vivian and even compose the love note..."

"You know perfectly well those feelings weren't real!" the Prince ground out in aggravation.

Hedda cleared her throat. Near everyone in the kingdom had heard about the Prince's fleeting infatuation for the visiting princess, who was said to be cold and difficult to please. It was a relief that his feelings had run their course so quickly, for no one relished the idea of such a woman becoming Camelot's future queen.

"Oh right, I forgot." For some reason this Merlin was grinning like a fool.

"I think this will suit Lady Morgana's complexion very well," Hedda took the opportunity to insert, for it looked as though the Prince might throttle his servant. She laid out an ice-blue silk scarf.

"Morgana?" Prince Arthur looked blank.

"I thought—" Hedda began in surprise, but was interrupted.

"Oh! Yes, of course, because she's so fair," Merlin put in quickly. "You have quite the eye, Missus Croft."

"Merlin, _what_ are you _talk_ ing ab--" Prince Arthur began irritably.

"LADY MORGANA!" Merlin practically shouted, causing Hedda and the two other people browsing in the shop to jump. "SHE WILL CERTAINLY ENJOY THIS VERY MUCH!"

Prince Arthur looked at his servant in disbelief and annoyance in equal measure. "Did I miss you falling and hitting your head on the way over here?"

Merlin was spared answering this by the arrival of another patron. Hedda was appalled to note that it was Gwen, carrying a basket of vegetables, and she was wearing a familiar green charm in her hair. Perhaps Hedda was wrong. Perhaps it wasn't the same charm at all. Hedda didn't like to think what Prince Arthur's reaction would be if he saw his gift -- the one he was trying to replace -- in the possession of his lady's serving girl.

Gwen looked surprised to see the Prince, but did not seem to fear discovery. "My lord," she greeted with a deferential bow of her head. "Hello, Merlin."

"Guinevere. You look..." The Prince seemed to struggle. "...very nice," he finished with a nod, looking relieved to have found the right words. He cleared his throat and looked away quickly.

"Are you here to buy more socks, sire?" Gwen asked, smiling.

Prince Arthur looked confused, while Merlin had a sudden fit of coughing.

"No, I—" The Prince hesitated, then pushed away the scarves Hedda had been showing him with a casual air. "I was just leaving, actually." He couldn't have missed the charm in her hair, Hedda thought. The sunlight streaming through the few windows made it quite dazzling to behold. Yet he made no mention of it, seemed to think nothing of it at all. Hedda was forced to consider that it wasn't the same charm at all, though she had thought it quite unmistakable...

"Good afternoon, sire," Gwen responded, curtseying as they left.

"Merlin, you are so embarrassing. That's the last time I take you anywhere," they all heard the Prince say as the door closed behind them.

"I wanted to stop by and see if you had gotten in any more of the fabric we discussed last time," Gwen said, hefting the basket of vegetables onto her hip.

"I'm sorry, not quite yet," Hedda said, trying not to stare at the girl's hair. "You seem to be on good terms with Prince Arthur, Gwen."

"Oh," said Gwen, startled. She couldn't seem to meet Hedda's gaze. "Not especially. Prince Arthur is kind and generous toward all his subjects."

"Prettily said, my dear," Hedda mused as Gwen's cheeks pinked.

"I'll return soon, shall I?"

"I'll look forward to it."

~*~

It was another blustery day. The chill in the air had gotten more pronounced, and winter was knocking softly on all the doors of Camelot.

Hedda wasn't so subtle; she used her knuckles to rap sharply on Gwen's door, pulling her shawl around her more snugly. It took a few moments, but the door finally opened, just a crack, just enough for Hedda to see Gwen, who looked surprised to see her.

"Missus Croft?" Gwen questioned, looking slightly flustered.

"Hello, Gwen," Hedda replied. "I've brought the fabric you've been wanting. You seemed very keen so I thought I would bring it by when I had some come in."

"Oh. Oh! Thank you, that is so kind of you." Gwen looked genuinely thrilled. But not enough, apparently, to remember her manners.

"You're welcome, dear. Would you mind letting me in so I can set it down? I'm not as young as I used to be." This last was said rather pointedly. While it was true that she was getting on in years, a bolt of fabric wasn't beyond Hedda's capabilities. She was, however, curious about Gwen's peculiar behavior. The girl was obviously hiding something.

Gwen seemed to hesitate, then threw open the door. "Of course, I'm so sorry; please come in."

It was only then that Hedda noticed Gwen already had a visitor. They had obviously been having tea together when she'd arrived, if the steaming cups and kettle were any indication.

At first, Hedda only observed that Gwen's guest was male, which perhaps explained her reticence. It wasn't exactly proper for a young girl to entertain male guests in her home. In the next moment, however, the identity of Gwen's guest asserted itself, causing Hedda to speak without thinking. "My lord!" she exclaimed quite loudly. She quickly recovered herself, rectifying her rudeness by immediately dropping into a curtsey, hoping he would forgive the lapse. In fact, he didn't seem to notice anything amiss, giving her a quick nod and smile, with no hint of recognition.

Hedda glanced at Gwen, who looked fairly embarrassed. "Would you care for some tea?" Gwen asked, clearly trying to sound normal but looking as though she'd prefer to sink through the floor.

"Oh -- no, no, thank you, dear," Hedda replied. Had Gwen's guest been anyone but a Pendragon, she would have been glad of the refreshment. But to sit at the same table as the heir to the throne of Camelot, sipping tea with him as though she were an equal, struck her as being particularly insolent. Gwen might be able to do it, being more familiar with the Prince, but Hedda certainly could not imagine doing it herself.

"Please, I insist," Gwen said, taking the bolt of fabric from Hedda and setting it down. "You've come all this way to do me a favor, and it would be incredibly rude of me not to provide you with at least a cup of water."

"It isn't so far," Hedda insisted. "I'm just down the--"

"And Prince Arthur was just leaving," Gwen interrupted quickly.

This seemed to be news to the man in question, who had just picked up his cup for another sip. "Am I?"

With her head, Gwen gestured subtly, then emphatically, toward the door. "You asked me to make sure you wouldn't be late, sire. It was very kind of you to bring news of Lady Morgana's health."

Prince Arthur stood, looking bemused. "Er -- right. I suppose I ought to get going. A lot of training to do."

Hedda kept her head lowered respectfully as he passed, but surreptitiously noted his attire with a shopkeeper's eye. She wondered what it was exactly that made him stand out so starkly in Gwen's shabby, modest little home. Was it just the knowledge of who he was, or was it something more? The dark maroon tunic he was wearing looked to be made of the softest cotton -- no scratchy wool for the Prince. His trousers were the same, but as dark as the day they were dyed. His boots were made of thick, handsome leather and looked newly polished. Even in casual dress, from the top of his clean, golden head to his well-shod toes there was no mistaking that he had been raised in privilege. But it wasn't what he wore that advertised his royal lineage the loudest; it was the way he carried himself, it was how effortlessly he accepted the deference bestowed upon him as his due.

Gwen followed the Prince out, closing the door behind her. Hedda could hear their muffled voices.

"You can't just turn up here whenever you like!" Gwen sounded as though she were scolding a recalcitrant child. Hedda thought this was almost criminally bold, but the Prince seemed to feel otherwise.

"I think, Guinevere, you'll find that one of the benefits of being the Prince of Camelot is that I can go anywhere in my land that I choose. It's one of the top attractions of the job, really."

"This is my house!" Now she sounded as though she _were_ the recalcitrant child.

"Which happens, coincidentally, to be situated on my land, which means you could say that the house ... and every person or thing in it, I might add, belongs to me," mused the Prince.

"Oh!"

Hedda heard a yelp, but it wasn't clear who the sound had originated from.

Presently, the door opened again and Gwen entered, looking windswept and ... something else. A slight suspicion began to form in the older woman's mind.

"That's a lovely charm in your hair," Hedda said mildly, taking a seat at the table as Gwen set a cup of hot liquid in front of her.

Gwen's hand reflexively reached up to touch it. "Thank you."

"May I see it?"

The girl hesitated for a moment, then removed the ribbon from her hair and handed it, with the charm attached, to Hedda.

Hedda pretended to study it, but she was already sure from one close glance that it was, in fact, the same charm she had sold to Merlin. "It's lovely," she said. "A gift from a suitor?"

"No!" Gwen said quickly. "A ... a friend. The tortoise is meant to represent our friendship."

"Slow?" Hedda suggested, handing the charm back.

Gwen laughed. "Unhurried." Her features softened as she stared at the charm, caressing it with her fingers. "Steadfast." She tied the ribbon back into her hair. She seemed to pause for a long time before finishing quietly, "Enduring."

"Admirable traits for any relationship," Hedda said lightly.

"I think so as well," Gwen said.

They smiled at one another, then sat and sipped their tea for a long time.

~*~

"Mother, where have you been?" Arletta's petulant voice greeted Hedda when she returned home.

"Visiting Gwen."

"I don't see why you're being so friendly with her all of a sudden."

"I might treat her a little better if I were you," Hedda told her daughter without heat.

"And why should I want to do _that_?" Arletta asked scornfully while resentfully stoking the fire.

"No one knows what the future will bring. One day you may want Guinevere as your ally and not your enemy."

Arletta's eyebrows rose. "What are you on about, Mother? Why would I ever need a lady's maid as an ally? I'd do better to befriend a knight. I certainly wouldn't be opposed to that," she mused.

Hedda removed her shawl and hung it carefully on a hook. "She may one day be Queen of all Camelot, for all we know."

"That's likely," Arletta scoffed. "Now stop with this nonsense, Mother. What shall we have for supper?"

Arletta was right, of course. The prospect of a commoner capturing Prince Arthur's heart was dubious to begin with. The idea that he would make her his wife was even more farfetched. Hedda was likely being a sentimental old woman.

Still, in this kingdom, stranger things had happened.

= end =

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback would be super appreciated.
> 
> Also, I'd love it if any Brits wanted to help me make my dialogue sound more authentic by offering their beta services for the future. I used to have a Brit-picker when I was writing HP fic but that was awhile ago. Let me know if you'd be interested. :-)


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